CHAPTER 4- Shock at Montenegro Enterprises

Chapter 4: Shock at Montenegro Enterprises

(Aleira’s Point of View)

The Montenegro Tower was nothing like I imagined.

It stood like a monolith of glass and steel in the heart of Ortigas—sleek, modern, intimidating. The kind of place you walk past but never into unless you belong.

And I didn’t feel like I did.

Not yet.

I clutched my folder tightly to my chest, double-checked the interview email on my phone, and drew a deep breath. My reflection in the tall glass windows revealed a woman who barely slept the night before—eye bags visible, nerves dancing in her chest. Still, I had put on my best blouse, fixed my hair in a neat bun, and worn the only decent shoes I had left.

This was my shot.

“Good morning, Ma’am,” the security guard greeted, scanning my ID.

I nodded, trying to smile. “I’m here for an interview. Aleira Tan.”

He checked the list on his clipboard and gave a curt nod. “Ninth floor. HR department. Elevators are to your left.”

I muttered a thank you and stepped into the spacious lobby. Polished floors, minimalist art, and employees in crisp suits moved about with purpose. I felt like a paper boat drifting in a sea of sharks.

As the elevator doors closed, I tried to keep myself from overthinking.

Stay calm. Be confident. You deserve this.

But my heart didn't listen. It pounded louder with each floor we passed. My palms were clammy, and I kept rehearsing answers in my head: strengths, weaknesses, why I wanted to work there.

The elevator dinged softly and opened to a pristine hallway on the ninth floor. The Montenegro Group logo shimmered in silver against a deep gray wall. A receptionist sat at a marble-topped desk, already talking into a headset. She glanced up and offered a professional smile.

“Good morning. Are you here for the Administrative Assistant interview?”

“Yes,” I replied softly.

“Kindly take a seat. HR will call you shortly.”

I sat down on the edge of the plush couch, legs trembling slightly. Two other applicants were already there—both sharply dressed, one typing confidently on her phone, the other flipping through a leather-bound portfolio. I felt small beside them.

A flat-screen TV on the wall flashed company updates, stock tickers, and headlines about Montenegro Group’s recent acquisitions.

And then I saw it.

A press photo.

Brent Montenegro.

CEO.

Young. Brilliant. Unattainably rich.

My breath hitched.

It was him.

The man from the alley. The man with the umbrella.

The same piercing eyes. The same stillness. The suit. The car.

It wasn’t a coincidence.

What was he doing in that alley? Why me?

I tried to shake the thoughts away, but they clung like fog.

The receptionist called out. “Ms. Tan?”

I stood quickly, clutching my folder.

“Please come in.”

The HR office was cooler than expected, its walls lined with certificates and sleek décor. The interviewer was a poised woman in her forties, with kind eyes behind her glasses.

“Good morning, Ms. Tan. Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you,” I replied, settling in.

The interview began with the usual questions—my work experience, strengths, weaknesses, how I handle pressure. I answered honestly, choosing my words carefully, trying not to sound desperate.

“What made you interested in Montenegro Group?” she asked.

I hesitated. “I’ve always admired companies that value excellence. And… I’m ready to grow. To prove myself.”

She nodded, making notes. “Do you have experience working under strict supervision?”

I smiled faintly. “Yes. I used to work in a government office. Deadlines and protocols were everything.”

Her lips twitched at that.

“Montenegro Group values punctuality, loyalty, and adaptability,” she continued. “This position requires multitasking and occasional coordination with executive-level offices.”

“I understand,” I said, holding her gaze. “I’m ready for the challenge.”

She leaned in slightly. “Let’s say you’re given a task that conflicts with your personal time. How would you handle it?”

“I would prioritize the task. If I commit to a job, I commit fully,” I answered firmly.

The interviewer smiled. “That’s good to hear.”

After a few more questions, she leaned back. “Your résumé is modest, but your answers are impressive. We’ll forward your profile to the executive secretary. If you’re shortlisted, you’ll be contacted for a final interview with the CEO’s office.”

I blinked. “T-The CEO?”

“Yes. Mr. Montenegro personally reviews all hires under his direct department.”

My heart skipped.

He was going to read my file.

Was that good… or bad?

I thanked her and exited the room, barely aware of my feet as I returned to the lobby. I sank back into the couch, dazed.

Was this happening? Was I really moving closer to something… bigger?

One of the other applicants glanced at me with a faint smirk. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

I smiled awkwardly. “Just nerves.”

She nodded but didn’t press.

Once outside the building, I let out a shaky breath and leaned against a lamp post. The heat of the day replaced the morning chill, and the city’s buzz returned to my ears.

I walked to a nearby park and sat on a bench under the shade. My fingers traced the edge of the umbrella still tucked in my bag.

It was all too much.

Brent Montenegro.

His face.

His silence.

His sudden reappearance in my life.

Was it fate?

Or was I reading too much into a coincidence?

Just then, my phone buzzed with a message.

Lara: Mommy, did you get the job?

A small smile tugged at my lips. I quickly replied.

Aleira: Not yet, baby. But maybe soon. Pray for mommy.

I imagined her tiny fingers clumsily pressing her toy phone, pretending to text me back. The thought filled me with warmth.

---

That night, I cooked a small pot of noodles with a leftover egg for Lara. She was all smiles as we sat on the floor of our tiny room, slurping dinner and giggling at her silly drawings.

“You look happy, Mommy,” she said between bites.

“I had a good day,” I answered, kissing her forehead. “A big company wants to hire me.”

“Is it a spaghetti company?” she asked with wide eyes.

I laughed softly. “Even better, baby.”

We curled up on the mattress after dinner, her small body warm beside mine. She fell asleep quickly, one hand curled around my finger.

After she drifted off, I opened my laptop. The screen flickered as the neighbor’s Wi-Fi struggled to connect. The cursor blinked slowly as emails loaded.

And then, it appeared.

Subject: Interview Invitation – Montenegro Group

My stomach flipped.

I clicked it open.

Dear Ms. Aleira Tan,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been shortlisted for a final interview at Montenegro Group of Companies for the position of Administrative Assistant. Your background and experience have shown potential aligned with our company values.

Interview Schedule: Wednesday, 10:00 AM

Location: Montenegro Tower, Executive Floor, Ortigas Center

Please bring a printed résumé and valid ID. Kindly confirm your attendance.

Montenegro Group.

The name made my fingers tremble.

My thoughts rushed back to the man in the alley. The suit. The presence. The silence.

Could it be...?

Was he someone from Montenegro Group? Was he testing me? Watching?

No. That would be crazy.

Wouldn’t it?

I glanced at the umbrella hanging by the door.

My chest ached in a way I couldn’t explain.

Was it hope?

Curiosity?

Something deeper?

I clicked “Confirm Attendance” and closed the laptop gently.

I lay back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling, heart still fluttering.

Would I see him again?

Would he remember me?

“Please let this be it,” I whispered.

Please let this be the beginning of the life I’ve been fighting for.